Former Rain-Forsaken Box Set Page 5

  Isaac put his gun to Ray-Ray’s temple. “I got a better idea, Ray-Ray. You go to Hell – right now. I’ll meet you there later. Okay?”

  “Isaac, man don’t do it.” Keith looked back and forth at all the stunned faces in the restaurant. “Not with all these witnesses.”

  Isaac didn’t look up. He pushed his gun further into Ray-Ray’s temple. “So what’s it gon’ be, Ray-Ray?”

  “All right, take it. Just take it!” Ray-Ray surrendered.

  Isaac smirked at Keith, then extended his hand to help Ray-Ray up. “Thanks, man. I like doing business with reasonable brothers.”

  8

  Elizabeth’s car was missing.

  She had dropped the kids off at her mother’s house last night. Good thing, since she was already running late for her three o’clock meeting with her new boss at the Belante’ Club. Intuition told her that raggedy ol’ Kenneth had something to do with her missing vehicle. As soon as she was seated in the back seat of that yellow cab, she was on the phone with Kenneth. “Where’s my Lexus?”

  “Who pays the car note on that Lexus?” was his reply.

  “You do, or have you stopped paying?”

  Kenneth leaned back in his leather chair. “Oh, I’m still paying the bill. But I figured, since I’m the only one paying for that car, then I should be the only one driving it.”

  “What am I supposed to do for a car? How am I supposed to get the kids where they need to go?”

  He tapped his pen on his desk. “Well, you don’t need to worry about that. I’m moving back to my house on Monday. I’ll be able to take Erin and Danae wherever they need to go.”

  Elizabeth sat up in her seat. “Kenneth, you can’t be serious. We agreed that you needed to move out.”

  “I changed my mind. Why should I keep paying hotel bills when I’ve got a perfectly good house on Rahn Road?” He smirked. “If you don’t like it, you move out.”

  Elizabeth started chewing on her lip. “Look, Kenneth, I know you’re still upset about your clothes, but that’s no reason to act all nasty.”

  “You started this fight, Elizabeth. And I warned you that you couldn’t quit when you wanted to.” He ruffled some papers on his desk. “Be out of my house by noon on Monday; feel free to leave my kids.”

  “Why you…” Mr. Dial Tone blared in her ear. She pulled the phone away and stared at it. “Oooh! I hate him!”

  ***

  Elizabeth tried to put Kenneth’s no good self out of her mind. But when she wasn’t thinking about Kenneth, she was forced to remember what her worthless brother said about her name meaning ‘She worships the Lord.’ It kept repeating itself in her head. “Ooh, Michael, you make me so sick!”

  Elizabeth paid the cab driver and went inside the Belante’ Club. The smoke from the night before still lingered in the air; half-filled glasses were scattered all over the top of the bar. As she walked across the triangular-shaped dance floor, she wondered for the hundredth time, how so many people could fit on such a small space. This was the place of illusions. A little drink, a little dance, and those colorful lights above the dance floor made everybody beautiful. That is, until the next morning. Or, until seven years roll by, and he stomped on your heart, closed-out your credit accounts and repossessed your Lexus. Next morning, seven years, whatever.

  Tommy Brooks smiled and gave Elizabeth a standing ovation as she walked closer to his table. He was a handsome man. Athletic, GQ perfect. She found little comfort in his looks or applause.

  “From this moment on, you’ll get nothing but standing ovations,” Tommy said. As Elizabeth and Tommy sat down he continued. “I’m telling you, Elizabeth, you sing like an angel.”

  She worships the Lord. “So what did you want to discuss with me, Tommy?”

  Tommy took a pen out of his jacket pocket and laid it next to the piece of paper on the table. “I wanted to talk to you about your singing career.” He picked up the pen. “I think you have a shot at being a real superstar, and I’d like the opportunity to manage your career.”

  Secular music. “Sure Tommy, whatever you want.”

  He smiled, pushed the contract in front of her, and began talking about his plans for her future.

  Elizabeth stopped him in mid sentence. “Tommy, what do you think the word secular means?”

  Tommy leaned back in his seat, his brow lifted, as he stared at her. “I don’t know, why?”

  “I think it means, without God.”

  9

  “Isaac, man, please don’t do this.” Leonard was on his knees. Isaac stood over him, gun in hand. “Come on man, we been through too much together.”

  “Guess you should have thought about that before you stole my money,” Isaac replied, unmoved by his comrade’s pleas.

  Leonard closed his eyes. Sweat ran down his forehead. His hands were shaking like a newborn crack baby. “You’re my son’s Godfather. Come on, man, Lenny Jr. needs me.”

  Isaac thought about that for a second. He was Godfather to this man’s son. He promised to look after the little tyke. And that was serious business. “Tell me where my money is, and I’ll put it in a trust fund for my Godson.”

  “I spent it, man. I spent it.” Leonard started crying. Seriously, he was crying like a little girl with a sprained ankle.

  “What could you have spent a hundred thousand dollars on in a month’s time?”

  Leonard wiped some of the sweat and tears off his face and bent his head and cried some more.

  Isaac cold cocked him with the handle of the gun. “Stop all that crying!” Leonard may be a no good thief, but he and Isaac had been friends. He could at least help this man go out with some dignity. “What’d you do with my money?”

  “I bought Tanya a house.”

  “You did what?” Isaac couldn’t believe it. He just absolutely couldn’t believe that he was Godfather to the Lollypop Man’s son. “You bought a house for Tanya – that trick who is right now, laid up with Keith in her new house?”

  Leonard shook his head back and forth. “I didn’t know, man. I thought she loved me.”

  Yep, the Lollypop Man. If he kept this fool around, Lord knows how much of his hard earned grip would come up missing. “Good night, man. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.” Isaac squeezed the trigger and snuffed out a life-long friendship.

  Bang!

  Isaac was jolted up in bed. He shook his head and checked out his surroundings. He wasn’t with Leonard. He was home. This was the second night in a row he dreamed about his former friend. Why wouldn’t the memories leave him be? He put his hands to his head. Something or somebody was always invading his sleep, making him remember.

  Bang… Clang.

  Isaac stretched and yawned in his massive oak four-poster bed. Sunday mornings were generally a lazy time for him. He would lie in bed for hours, trying to drive the demons from his head, while Nina waited on him hand and foot. But this Sunday morning, as well as the three that preceded it, Cynda was in his kitchen, clanging pots and pans and waking him up well before he was ready to greet a new day. The food was never quite as good as the clang or smell promised, so Isaac decided that it was time to end Cynda’s reign as Queen Bee.

  But there was something else he had to take care of first. He picked up the phone and dialed Keith’s cell.

  Ring, ring. “What up?” Keith answered.

  “Did that trick sign the house over to you yet?”

  “Yeah. But she was crying so hard, I doubt that Tanya will ever speak to me again.”

  “Look at it this way, I just saved you a trip to the doctor and a shot of penicillin – put the house on the market,” Isaac instructed Keith, then hung up the phone. “Cynda!” he yelled.

  She stepped into the doorway of the bedroom. “Hey, baby, I’m just whipping up a lil’ sumin’- sumin’.”

  He lifted himself up in bed and put another pillow behind his head. Even in the morning Cynda was breathtaking. She always wore candy-apple-red lipstick, and when she talked, her lips looked so lu
scious he just had to have a taste of all that red. As pretty as Nina was, Cynda still outdid her. But Spoony, Isaac’s mentor, told him a long time ago, “It’s all right to have a pretty woman, but after you get done looking at her, make sure she can handle your other needs.” Cynda couldn’t.

  “I’m not hungry and it’s time for you to go.” He got out of bed, opened up his closet door, and tossed out some of Cynda’s clothes. “Get your stuff, and take it home. I don’t want to see anything of yours left behind.”

  “What’s wrong? Isaac, why you trippin’?”

  “Ain’t nobody trippin’. It’s just time for you to go,” he said, as he slipped on his robe and walked out of the room. Walking papers served.

  “You’re just upset about Nina. Isaac, why won’t you just let that go and, -”

  “That’s enough!” Isaac swung back around to face her. “I don’t want to hear another word about Nina! Is that clear?”

  She submissively answered, “Yes.”

  He was tired of Cynda. She was constantly reminding him of Nina’s wrongdoing. Well, he would show her. Today he would show them all. No woman, man or child would betray him and live to tell about it.

  Isaac Walker was nobody’s push over. Schooled on the streets of Chicago, where every penny-ante hustler dreamed of becoming the next Al Capone. Hustler 101 was taught daily on Michigan Avenue. And at the age of twelve, Isaac became a student of Spoony Davidson.

  Spoony got his shoes shined every Tuesday morning like clockwork at the corner of Michigan and State Streets. Rumor was, Spoony had to get his shoes shined on Tuesdays, because his Monday evenings were spent kicking the living daylights out of his women who failed to meet their weekend quota. Spoony was a pimp, a gambler, and a dope pusher.

  One morning as Spoony put one of his shoes on the rack for shining, Isaac came barreling out of the small candy store directly behind the shoe shine stand, and ran into Spoony. The owner of the store ran out behind Isaac yelling, “Stop, thief! Stop, thief!”

  Spoony grabbed Isaac and held onto him tightly. “What’s the matter with you, boy? You almost knocked me down.”

  Isaac stared straight through Spoony, but said nothing.

  “That’s good, keep holding him, Mr. Spoony, and I’ll call the police,” the store owner said.

  “Wait a minute,” Spoony told the storeowner, then pulled out a fifty-dollar bill. “This should cover whatever he took. Okay?” The storeowner smiled and walked back inside. “What’s your name, kid?” Spoony asked as he released his hold.

  “What’s it to you?” Isaac asked defiantly.

  Spoony folded his arms across his chest, stood real still, stared down at the kid in front of him, and waited.

  “Isaac, okay? It’s Isaac.”

  “Well, Isaac, why ain’t you in school?”

  “School’s for chumps.”

  Spoony took the stolen candy out of Isaac’s hand, “No, stealin’s for chumps; school’s for learning.”

  “School can’t teach me nothing. I’m a hustler, just like Al Capone.” Isaac tried to stand a little taller as he added, “One day this city is gon’ know my name.”

  Spoony smiled. “My friend, you don’t know the first thing about hustling. Stick with me, I’ll teach you.”

  Years later, driving down the streets of Dayton; Isaac picked up his car phone and dialed Valerie. “I want you at the house when I get home. About five, okay?”

  Valerie didn’t ask any questions. “I’ll be there, baby.”

  Isaac opened his glove compartment and took out his Glock. He no longer lived in Chicago, but as far as he was concerned, the rules in Dayton were no different. “Get ready, Nina. Today you will meet your Maker.”

  10

  It was not a common thing to hear of people beating a path to the house of God, at least, not this new generation of people. But The Rock Christian Fellowship was, by no means, a traditional church. Greeters were assigned to every door to welcome the congregation with a hug, a smile, and a word of encouragement as they walked inside. The sanctuary could seat about five hundred people; however, The Rock had a membership of about twelve hundred. Hence, the need for two services and extra chairs placed in the aisles every Sunday morning. No, The Rock did not have a huge church building, or a ministry of thousands as did TV evangelists such as Bishop T.D. Jakes or Creflo Dollar, but there was something different about this church that had caught the very ear of God. The power in the prayers could be felt throughout the sanctuary and the worship could only be compared to that of angels. The honey came out of The Rock when praise and worship went forth to God.

  Elizabeth felt the difference the moment she stepped into the church. She immediately noticed the banner that hung over the doorway of the fellowship hall: “Enter at your own risk. Holy Ghost at work.” She took Erin and Danae to the children’s church then entered the sanctuary. Her two-inch heels were swallowed up in the thick rich burgundy carpet that covered the entire sanctuary floor. Gold chandeliers hung over the cushioned pews. Directly behind the pulpit, a gold cross hung above the baptismal pool. The sanctuary itself, although tastefully decorated, would not have been the standard by which sanctuaries were measured. A smile crossed her face, which she quickly tried to conceal.

  As they walked down the middle aisle of the sanctuary, Michael said, “I’m glad you decided to come to church with me. I just wish I could sit with you.” They stopped at a pew five rows from the front of the sanctuary.

  “I’ll be all right Michael, don’t worry,” his sister assured him.

  Her tall handsome brother did his military walk as he entered the pulpit and joined the other elders. Besides the pastor and co-pastor, The Rock had three elders. The elders were varied in their gifts and abilities. Michael Edwards was the well known and loved youth pastor. The teenagers to whom he ministered respected him, not just because he walked the talk, but he was down to earth, and related to them. He understood that people make mistakes. He also understood grace. Michael had been at The Rock for six years.

  At sixty-two, Marvel Hardison, a warm-hearted faithful man, was the oldest of the three elders. Many of the saints felt at ease bringing their problems to him. He had a knack for helping people accept the grace of God. Elder Hardison was head of the Senior Saints Group. Every first and third Sunday, this group of saints marched off to several nursing homes to minister to the sick and shut in. They encouraged young married couples. The retired members of his group traveled the globe like there wasn’t nothing to it, but to do it. The Senior Saints did more for the cause of Christ, and just plain ol’ experienced life, more than some of the twenty and thirty year old saints in the congregation.

  Jonathan Woodlow was the most dynamic of the elders at The Rock. The old cliche ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ was manifested on him. Elder Woodlow oversaw the Mission’s Ministry. He had also just recently been appointed over the Evangelistic Ministry at The Rock. After that appointment, single sisters joined the Evangelistic Team at ten times the rate they had joined in the seven years the ministry had been in existence. If Jonathan noticed, he never said a word. He just kept seeking God’s will for his life.

  Elder Woodlow stood behind the podium to welcome the congregation into the second service of the day. “Everyone, please take your seats.”

  ***

  The time had come.

  Isaac would soon have his revenge. It was so close he could taste it. He would soon be rid of Nina and her defiance. He was sick of her I-can’t-live-your-life attitude, as if her life was so much better. Her scared-straight behind hadn’t left the house in over a month, and Isaac should know. He drove up and down Elmhurst Avenue everyday since the night he almost cornered her at Joe’s Carryout.

  This morning, as he parked Keith’s Bonneville three doors down from Nina’s place, he thought, Today, I will set you free, Nina.

  With Nina’s freedom, also came Isaac’s. As long as Nina was alive her betrayal dogged him. But once she was dead, he could forget what she had do
ne to him, and remember the good times. And with Nina, it was all-good, until she cold-bloodedly murdered his child.

  Isaac put his Glock inside his jacket pocket. He couldn’t wait, as a matter of fact, he was tired of waiting. Nina would never come out of that house, she had turned herself into some kind of hermit.

  “What’s taking them so long?” Isaac asked. He knew that the woman who owned this women’s shelter went to church every Sunday with a trail of fatsoes behind her. He still couldn’t understand why the same woman who carried that “A life is a terrible thing to waste” sign, allowed Nina to stay in her house. The woman saw Nina come out of that abortion clinic, knew what she had done, and still she took pity on her.

  Well, Isaac had no pity for that lying betraying tramp. His plan was a simple one. He had driven over to wait for the house to empty. He was then going to sneak inside the house and blow Nina’s don’t-want-your-baby-no-more brains out.

  But that woman just wouldn’t come out of the house. He looked at his watch. 11:00 A.M.

  11:05… What time did these people go to church?

  11:08… His stomach growled. Did they cook anything, any breakfast left for ol’ Isaac?

  11:10… Forget it, he would just kill ‘em all. He hated the thought of bringing innocent bystanders into this, but hey, that’s what they get for harboring a baby-killer.

  As he started to get out of the car, the door to another house opened. A young man, about twenty-two, walked out, dressed head to toe in Tommy Hilfiger. The youngster came out of his yard, turned in the direction of Nina’s house, and began walking down the sidewalk.

  Just as Hilfiger man was about to walk pass the house, Nina’s door opened. Isaac sat up. Out walked the right-to-lifer, two other fatsoes, and Nina. “No, no, no,” Isaac said. “Stay in the house, Nina!”

  But Nina kept walking despite Isaac’s pleading. Then Hilfiger man started talking to Nina. Isaac growled, “Why is he smiling?”